


Leaving Nothing Behind

by ewatsonia



Category: DragonFable (Video Games), Televoid! (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Atypical Ian Happiness, Canon Typical Cysero Nonsense, Gen, Panic Attacks, This crossover appeals to like 4 people and one of them is me, Traumatized character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewatsonia/pseuds/ewatsonia
Summary: Ian gets his way out of the Void, and the Mad Magical Weaponsmith picks up a stray.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. Here Goes Nothing

There was a door. There was a _door._ A door, possibly _a way_ _out_ right there in front of him. Ian could hardly believe it, and half wondered if he was imagining it or not. All that lack of sleep did funny things to his head sometimes.

Hesitantly, he craned his neck behind him. Were the viewers still...No. They were gone again, right in that instant. That wasn’t a good sign. This wasn’t meant for their eyes. This filled him with equal parts dread and excitement. If the viewers couldn’t know what was behind the door, it had to be important. Confidential. Possibly extremely dangerous for _him_ to know.

Still. He wasn’t being stopped. No onslaught of static rendering him dead on the ground. That could easily be good or bad. It could mean he was out of their reach(was that possible here?) or it could mean he was playing into exactly what his keepers wanted. He _was_ following the advice of something in the TV. 

But, _god_ it could still be his ticket out of here. It was risking everything, but he had to try. He just _had to_ , consequences be damned. Not everything in the Void was out to get him, even Stinky alone was proof of that. His fairy godmother might’ve meant well.

Even if he was kind of a dick.

Slowly Ian stepped forward. It almost felt hours were passing, as he carefully, silently moved, perhaps nervous of what lie ahead, perhaps afraid it might vanish if he was too loud or too fast. Yet closer and closer he drew, and it was still there and it looked _real…_

Ian inhaled slowly to brace himself. Hand shaking, he reached for the door handle.

It was not halfway there before the door burst open on its own, sending him stumbling back. 

_Oh no,_ **_oh no_ ** _._ Ian clamped his eyes shut, a tremble of fear shaking through him at what could greet him if he opened them. This might be it. He had the faintest glimmer hope to cling to at least; he hadn’t stayed dead _that_ long last time he upset them. It would hurt, but it wouldn’t be forever. 

Unless it was.

Ian waited.

“ _Weeeell_. This is a first.” the apparent newcomer mused, presence that sounded far less hostile than expected. For now. 

He kept his eyes firmly shut. This could be a trick. 

“Hiya!” they greeted, voice cheerful. The door creaked and the voice was closer to him now. “Y’know if you hadn’t been standing there I would’ve sworn this thing was broken. It looks so _empty_ in here.”

Broken? What did they mean….

“D’you mind telling me where I am? This door changes but it _usually_ sends me to the same sorts of places.” There was a pause, and by the shuffling noises it sounded like they were looking around. “ _Waait_ . You’re all freaked out. Oh _whoops_ , do you live here? Did I just pop through your front door? I’m not a robber! Promise! Not that it looks like you really have anything to steal...”

By this point, Ian hazarded that this person might actually _not_ mean him much harm so he chanced a look at them. 

The man in green before him was tall, strikingly so; Ian wasn’t exactly _short_ and he had to look up to see his face. Though, not much else other than his nose and a small frown were visible under the mess of shaggy brown hair. Despite remaining in the same spot, attention on Ian, he was not still. There were little erratic movements everywhere, from his leg bouncing, to a hand rapping against the handle of the hammer on his belt that gave the impression of someone perpetually hyped up on sugar.

“Uhh…” Ian drawled. “It’s not my front door. I do live here but uh. I literally just found out this door existed today. Like five minutes ago actually.”

“You didn’t know your house had a door?” he asked, giving Ian a concerned look and a tilt of the head.

Ian fought the growing urge to sigh deeply, it wasn’t like this guy knew anything about his situation. For all he knew, Ian just had questionable taste in living arrangements. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how in the hell he was going to explain his situation. It was his normal. He hated it, yet accepted it because he only had a vague recollection and the films he watched to know this wasn’t everyone else’s too.

“This place is weird. And massive-and also not a house. I’m usually too worried about getting lost to go far this far but…” he frowned. “I followed someone. There was...Did you see a guy in a fox costume walk out this door?”

“Nope. He probably walked through right before my door decided to link to this one.” he said, shrugging. “What were you following this fox guy for?”

“My uh…” Wait should he tell him about his fairy godmother? Nah, better be safe than sorry. He didn’t want to sound like a lunatic if wherever this guy was from was more grounded in reality than the Void. “My _intuition_ told me to follow him. I wasn’t sure what he’d lead me to. Can’t say I’m unhappy about possibly finding a way out of this place though.”

Something washed over the man-he went rather still and moved his head so sharply towards Ian that it shifted his hair and he almost got a glimpse of what lie underneath it. “You’re trapped here?”

It was a question, yet said with almost enough certainty to be a statement. 

“Yeah. I don’t even remember how I _got_ here. It sort of feels like I’ve _always_ been here, but...” Ian shrugged. “It also feels like I’ve only been here a couple years? I dunno. Time is funky here.”

The man didn’t appear to like that answer, tensing up further and his frown deepening.

Ian held his breath and debated making a run for it. Was he mad at him? Perhaps this was a test of the Void, the nonsense about a magical door that linked to other ones was just that: nonsense. Admitting he was trapped was a mistake and he’d be punished.

“Well if it’s a way out you’re looking for, this is as good as any.” the man gestured to the open door behind him, pointing his with his thumb. Through it, Ian caught a glimpse of stone walls and wooden trim.

...Maybe this _was_ for real?

The man then burst into a grin, shattering the grim air that’d been about him. “Plus, if you come with me, you can tell me about the funky time stuff here! I _love_ funky time stuff! One time I did some of it and met a bunch of mes.” 

“Fun.” Ian said, thinking about his creepy Race Your Baby doppelgangers and how decidedly the opposite that situation was. Brushing that aside... “But sure dude, literally _anywhere_ is better than here.” 

The man turned on his heel, but rather than facing the door, he spun all the way back around and started walking backwards. Ian watched _very_ carefully as he followed. There was still time for this guy to just...shut the door on him. 

“Oh! Where are my manners?” the man stepped aside and presented the door with a grand gesture of both arms. “Guests first!”

It took everything in Ian not to _run_ through that door to his freedom. But he crossed the threshold, and there he was. A creak and a _thud_ soon followed. 

Then Ian collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever just decide, why NOT write an incredibly self indulgent crossover of a niche horror web series and a browser flash rpg?
> 
> I don't know how many chapters this is going to have, but it sure is more than just the oneshot it was originally supposed to be. Also if you just stumbled across this in the DF tag, please watch Televoid.


	2. Running On Empty

Ian woke up and was immediately put off by the act. There was nothing in the universe he wanted less than to open his eyes and discover his escape had been nothing more than a vivid dream. That he hadn't gone through any door and he'd be greeted by the familiar empty blackness in all directions and hum of TV static. 

Dreams were a contributing factor to his lack of sleep. Okay, sure he’d been _dying,_ not sleeping when he’d imagined being in the White Void, but _details_. They were always too real, either horrific scenarios even worse than his current situation or stuff he longed for that he’d never get, freedom, safety…friends. Dreams got his hopes up or terrified him, in either case made him feel worse when he finally woke up.

So yeah, he stayed firmly in bed.

Wait.

Bed?

He didn’t have a bed. He had a chair that always wreaked havoc on his neck when he managed to conk out. Yet he was laying down, on something much too soft to be the floor.

Ian shot up.

This was, in fact, a bed. A comfortable bed, with blankets and pillows and everything. He looked around the room, and the walls were the same combination of wood and stone that he’d seen through the door. It was real. _It was all real._

_He’d gotten out._

Tears trickled out of Ian's eyes. He put his head in his hands and he let something halfway between a sob and a laugh of disbelief out. He’d really done it. He was _here_ out of the Void in a _fucking bed_ , after some of the best sleep of his life. 

What was definitely a laugh this time escaped him, thinking about how pissed his keepers, whoever they are, must be right now. Him getting away, just because someone _happened_ to stumble across the Void by accident?

Well, they’d just have to die mad about it. Because here was now.

Ian managed to pull himself out from under the covers, sitting on the side of the bed. He was still fully dressed, right down to his shoes. He furrowed his brow, now why would he…

 _Crossing the threshold of the Void and wherever he was now. Pain, all over,_ **_especially_ ** _in his stomach._

_Lightheaded._

_His heart pounding._

_His muscles shaking, legs struggling to hold him up._

_The entire world shuddering around him and_ **_thump_ ** _and pain as he hit the ground-_

Oh. Okay, he’d passed out. That explained that. But this had to have something to do with not being in the Void anymore, right? Ian grimaced. Hopefully none of this was...permanent. It’d be just his luck that being out of the Void for too long would ki-

Deep breath in. Hold it. Deep breath out. Repeat. No, he wasn’t going to think like that. He focused on the fact that he definitely wasn’t passing out _now._

Slow and careful, making sure he was in range of the bed if he fell back down, Ian stood up. He could feel a weakness that hadn’t been there before, but it wasn’t so bad he was collapsing. Sleeping must’ve helped some. 

Stretching, Ian decided he should try to get his bearings on where he was. And thank the guy whose house he’d inadvertently ended up crashing at. Hell, getting his name would probably also be a good idea. 

Well, there was no doing any of that in this room. 

Ian grinned. He could leave, he could come and go from here as he pleased, couldn’t he? ( _Within reason of being a guest in someone’s home,_ said a tiny voice in his head that sounded irritatingly like the fairy godmother from _Cindy Goes To A Party._ ) Time to exercise that ability. 

Ian slipped out of the door, shutting it softly behind him, and walked out into a long hallway. This place was _huge._ The floors were polished, with some kind of an ornate pattern, and a long black carpet with gold edging was rolled out over them. Going down the hall there were many shelves, filled messily with books(a good few with titles on the spine in languages he couldn’t read), pots, vials and other assorted _things_ that Ian didn’t know if he wanted to be able to identify.

Upon seeing a window, that was sideways for some reason, Ian _darted_ towards it. You couldn’t blame a guy who couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the sun. If he ever had.

The sun was also sideways. As was everything else outside. 

Ah. 

It was apparent then, that Ian was walking up the side of a building. He decided he didn’t want to think too hard about the logistics of that, because you know what? He’d seen enough weird stuff in the Void. This was fine.

Continuing his gaze out the window while he came to that conclusion though...may’ve been a bad idea. Ian groaned, feeling woozy, with nausea churning in his stomach. Looking out had been rather akin to hanging upside down for too long.

 _Urk_ . Ian leaned against the wall, facing _away_ from the window, and slid down to a sitting position. He held a hand over his mouth and swallowed to keep whatever was threatening to come up, down.

_Please don’t pass out again. Please._

Footsteps and a cheerful whistle echoed down the hall. Tilting his head up, Ian saw his rescuer approaching. When he got closer, seeing Ian slumped down on the ground, the whistling stopped.

He squatted down, hands slapping against his knees. “You okay there?”

Ian forced a smile(almost a reflex, that was). “Fine. Just uh. Got a little too dizzy looking out the window.” He leaned his head back to gesture to it.

It’ll do that if you’re not used to it.” the man sprung back up and held out a hand for Ian. 

Ian took his time getting up, as his ability to stand was apparently negotiable today. He didn’t know how much of that was just his brain melting at the weird perspective, or related to his _reaction_ to leaving the Void. He hoped the hell this wouldn’t be a recurring thing.

“Oh! We never got properly introduced huh? Since you kinda…” the man trailed off, miming someone falling over with his hand. “Name’s Cysero!”

“Ian. I’m not really sure what was up with _that._ But I think I’m mostly good now?” he said this as he was seized by a sharp pain and audible rumbling in his stomach and fought back a wince. 

Cysero stroked his chin. “I _thiiink_ I might. When was the last time you ate?”

“I had some popcorn like...a year-ish ago?” And yes, Ian was perfectly aware how that sounded. He’d just never thought much about it? He knew people needed to eat, but...

He supposed somewhere along the line he might’ve stopped including himself in “people”

“...Let’s getcha a sandwich or something buddy.” 

Ian nodded. The mere mention of food set his stomach growling again. If he was this hungry, that meant he _was_ feeling the effects of not eating in the Void so it was a wonder that he wasn’t y’know...dying right now.

He made the executive to not question it for now. Gift horses and all that. 

Cysero started heading down the hall, and Ian trailed behind, deciding to put his attention back on all the _things_ around them to distract himself. There certainly was a lot to look at…

Something sped by behind him and Ian seized up, breathing in a startled gasp between his teeth, hearing _something_ thumping off into the distance. 

Cysero took this in stride, pausing, and glancing towards the source of the noise. “Oh yeah, might wanna be careful around here. I think that was my laundry. It bites sometimes.” he said, before turning around and continuing on.

Ian looked up and shook his head. “It _bites.”_ he mouthed at the ceiling.

_How does laundry bite?_

They made it to the kitchen, which was startlingly ordinary considering everything Ian had seen thus far. The only part of it that stood out was the yellow line dividing the room in half, fridge and table included.

There was enough knowledge of sitcoms floating around in his head to make an educated guess about what had happened there. 

“Have a seat.” Cysero said, already rifling through his cabinets. 

Obliging, Ian chose one that was on _this_ side of the yellow line, just to be safe. He sat with his legs hanging off the side, leaning on the back and watching Cysero. 

While watching someone make a sandwich wasn’t an especially excited task(except when Cysero opened the fridge and Ian noted with some amusement that the line was _inside of it_ as well. There _had_ to be a story behind that.) it was something to do, and Ian was a tad lost for conversation. 

Also, it was hard to think of much else than that he was going to have food soon the way his stomach was aching.

Eventually a plate gently clattered in front of Ian, and _god_ was he ready to wolf that thing down.

He was about to do just that before Cysero casually added, “Make sure you don’t eat too fast, that’s never good on an empty stomach.”

…Right. 

He _tried_ to keep that in mind, but there was only so much restraint one could have when they’d gone without food as long as Ian had. Even if it hadn’t killed him, being deprived of the _sensation_ of eating was itself, unpleasant.

“Thank you.” Ian said, hastily wiping crumbs off his face after he’d finished.

Cysero gave him a little thumbs up, and took the other chair on this side of the line. “No problemo. I’d have given you more but that’s also bad when you haven’t eaten in a while.” 

Ian shrugged. “Make sense. I mean, with how long I went without food I’m shocked I didn’t just drop dead.” 

“I did give you something when you passed out that probably helped.” Cysero replied. “Health potions can’t fix everything but they’re good for keeping someone stable in a pinch.” 

_Health potion._ The words registered in Ian’s head. That sure implications about the kind of place he was. Well. Now was as good a time as any to actually get some answers. 

“So. Where are we, exactly?” Ian asked, though he had doubts that whatever Cysero said would hold much meaning. 

“You’re in my mage tower, in a place called Lore.”

He was correct. 

“Magic is a thing here, then?” (The hell else did you do in a _mage tower,_ Ian? Of course it is.)

...Should he asking this with more enthusiasm? It was _fucking magic_ . Magic that made things like health potions, and (presumably) _biting laundry._ And he couldn’t manage much more than the tone in which he’d note that the weather had been a bit funny lately.

“Yup. Planet’s kinda _made_ of it.” 

“Huh.” 

There was a lull. Ian, feeling awkward sitting in this room with nothing else springing to mind. He’d thought he’d have more questions than this.

 _“Sooo.”_ Cysero broke the silence. “The place you were in. What was up with _that?”_

Oh _joy,_ Ian got to talk about himself now. 

“It’s called the Void and I don’t have much of an idea either, really.” He slumped onto the table, looking at the wood rather than his conversational partner. “I think I mentioned it yesterday, but I don’t even remember how I ended up there. I was just...there. I stayed in this little area of it that had a TV. Sometimes shows came on and people watched me talk about them.” 

Cysero tilted his head. “People _watched_ you?” 

“There were cameras rolling, and I could also just...” Ian closed his eyes, recalling the sensation. “ _Feel_ them watching. It was nice. I didn’t feel as alone.” 

Breath caught in his throat, saying that word, reminding himself. _Alone_ , god he’d been so alone. With his eyes closed, he could almost just sink back into that. Into the Void. Dark in all directions, the only thing missing was the sound of static…

He opened his eyes. 

Ian leaned off the table and cradled his arms. “I don’t think the people watching me were bad. They sent emails, at least one person tried to warn me about stuff going on… Maybe whoever, _whatever,_ was keeping me, was keeping them too. I don’t know. “ 

“That’s....” Cysero pursed his lips, and Ian thought for a moment there were clenched teeth behind them, before he settled into more of a sympathetic frown. “Really messed up.” 

“Yeah. Yeah it was.” Ian agreed. And he hadn’t even _touched_ on the punishments. “Hence why I was desperate enough to follow the first stranger who offered me a way out? I mean, hell you could’ve been a serial killer or something.” 

There was a roar of laughter from Cysero, alleviating some of the tension that came with Ian sharing his emotional baggage. 

And Ian actually found himself smiling himself. For once, he could actually _see_ the reaction to a joke he made. It made his current situation finally stick in his mind.

He wasn’t alone anymore.


	3. Nothing Really Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I was almost done with this like two months ago and then I got a new hyperfixation that's consumed my life whoops.

It took about three days for Ian to be well enough to trust that he wasn’t going to randomly pass out again. No spectacular recovery, but being run down was better than questioning how the hell he was still alive. 

He was, of course, staying in the tower for all of that. He didn’t exactly have anywhere else to _go_. 

Not much more was said on his part, about his whole situation beforehand, but he’d learned a few things about Cysero in the meantime.

Cysero was a mage and a weaponsmith. He sold the magical weapons he made, and attempted other magic experiments. Said experiments were why there was that yellow line dividing the tower-it was magic, and kept them from going to his roommate’s side of it. 

A warning to try to stay on Cysero’s side of the tower had been given, as the magic didn’t keep other _people_ from crossing it, but Ian had free reign otherwise. 

He’d spent most of the first couple of days in the room he was staying in, old habits die hard, and he hadn’t felt much for walking around anyway. Today though, he decided to take advantage of that. Ian didn’t really want to bother Cysero much while he was working, and there was a lot to explore.

In his explorations, Ian avoided _touching_. Just to be safe. He didn’t want to find out the hard way whether something exploded or not. He also kept a vigilant eye out for stray laundry. 

The problem with getting consumed by avoiding one thing, and looking at another, was that sometimes you lost track of where you were. Eventually, Ian found he’d wandered into part of the tower that was decisively less chaotic, starting from windows that were the right way up.

That wasn’t what was going on in his head then though, he was looking out one of them, wondering if he should maybe ask Cysero to show him an exit so he could _actually go outside._ He hadn’t been outside since… 

Ian’s face scrunched up. It would’ve had to have been before he was in the Void right? Which was... at least a few years if his sense of time in there wasn’t _too warped?_

Yikes. 

He remained by the window, eyes closed, letting the sun hit his face. Basking in such a little thing that he’d been deprived of kept him oblivious to his surroundings. Of the approaching presence, the soft footsteps that came to a halt after drawing closer to him.

What actually grabbed his attention was the presence clearing its throat.

Eyes snapped open and locked onto the source of the sound. All the little differences that should’ve clued him in earlier assaulted his conscious brain. Ian went very, _very_ still.

One rule. He had one rule here and he’d broken it.

The person that had just approached Ian had wispy white hair, deep blue ropes that flowed out onto the ground, and eyes that were narrowing with vague suspicion “Can I...help you?”

Nothing came out of Ian’s mouth but a stammer and his breathing quickened. The obvious words, ones that might get Ian out of this with minimal harm wouldn’t come to him. His brain refused to do anything but whisper all the terrible things that could happen to him for breaking that rule. 

After all, he hadn’t bothered to inquire _why_ Cysero and his roommate divided up the tower, why he’d been warned away from coming here.

Maybe it was just politeness, not intruding.

Maybe it was dangerous to be here.

The suspicion in their expression was shifting, there was a twitch of movement.

Ian was running before he could even consciously decide he didn’t want to see what was going to become of that. He was going as fast as he could, in the opposite direction of that person yes, but his destination? No idea.

To Cysero? 

...It was Cysero who’d told him not to go to that side of the tower. _His_ rule that Ian had broken.

Ian couldn’t find out what would happen to him for breaking that rule. 

Getting out of the tower was ideal, but he didn’t know which way that was. 

He knew he had to run but he didn’t know where to go.

He didn’t know what to do. 

He was scared. 

There wasn’t anywhere he could run to, was there?

Ian kept going, the air rushing past him, cooling the wet spots on his face, until he was gasping for breath and his legs wobbled, demanding he stop lest they give out on their own. His hand shot out to a wall and he held himself up for a moment before sliding down to the ground. 

This wasn’t much different than before, was it? Maybe this was just the fate Ian was doomed to. Just a new coat of paint. He laughed a little. 

Who knows-he laughed more- maybe this was all still the Void after all. It had made itself look like elsewhere, disguising itself by leading him through a door. False hope, making him think he was free and _safe_ just to yank the chain back? That sounded about right. 

All was left was to have the person who’d “saved” him deal out a punishment for the rule that _of course_ he ended up breaking, and he’d probably be back to his chair in front of the TV.

He changed position, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them. He closed his eyes. He didn’t know what part of the tower he was in, how far away from Cysero(or his roommate) he was, but time would tell. If his hunch was right...well he doubted it would be long.

…

…

“Heya there, you doing alright?” 

The voice was soft, and should’ve been reassuring but Ian found himself bracing as close to the wall as he could and burying his face into his knees. He wasn't safe here. He probably never was. 

Wanting to be alone was something that felt _wrong_ to be feeling after all the time in isolation, but Ian wanted nothing more for Cysero to just _go away._ Stop pretending to be nice, stop pretending he wasn’t just an elaborate trick of the void disguising himself as the first real friend Ian thought he’d had-

“Ian, can you take a deep breath for me? Nice and slow?” 

It wasn’t even something he decided he was doing consciously, but Ian did as he was told. 

“Good, hold it for seven seconds.”

Ian fought to urge to exhale and inhale rapidly, what his body was telling him to do. He needed to listen or he’d…

“And breath out through your mouth, eight seconds this time.”

Cysero repeated the first instruction and _Oh._ Ian realized. This was a _breathing exercise._ This wasn’t malicious, this wasn’t him being strung along for someone this...this was Cysero trying to help him calm down.

A few more repetitions of the exercise and the adrenaline was fading. Slowly, Ian peered his head out from behind his knees. He could feel himself still trembling, but it was more to release the excess energy that’d been coursing through him than out of fear.

“You’re... _not_ going to punish me?” 

“‘Course not.” Cysero replied, voice barely above a whisper. “Why would I do that?”

“...Guess I’m just used to it.” Ian said, slumping onto his arm. 

A wave of _something_ Ian couldn’t identify washed over Cysero. It was one of those things that he felt like he might be able to better identify were he able to see under his bangs. Cysero was hard to read because of those.

The man cautiously reached out a hand towards Ian’s shoulder, probably half expecting him to flinch away. His head was more clear now, so he didn’t.

“I am not going to hurt you. _Ever._ ” he said. “Here isn’t going to be like where you were before, I promise.” 

Against all odds, Ian thought he was starting to actually believe that.


End file.
